


Daddy's Home

by ButterflyMama78



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: A bit of daddy kink, Empath, F/M, Fingering, Nosy Neighbors, Smut, Teasing, Telekinetic, Telepath, thanks to "Daddy's Home"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:13:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25713364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyMama78/pseuds/ButterflyMama78
Summary: Between a thunderstorm and the news break revealing Billy Butcher is a wanted man, Charlie is suffering from insomnia and unable to control her thoughts and emotions.  Billy and the boys' arrival, and the seemingly innocent comment he made in greeting, leads to some second-hand discomfort and a very happy reunion.(Possibility of a second part).
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 78





	Daddy's Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Below_Average_Fangirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Below_Average_Fangirl/gifts), [Portals_To_A_New_World](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Portals_To_A_New_World/gifts), [emstrange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emstrange/gifts).



> Ever since the trailer dropped with that infamous "Daddy's home" quote, this ficlet has been DEMANDING to be written.
> 
> Enjoy!

Daddy’s Home

“Thanks for this, for keeping Terror,” Billy pulled her in for a hug. “I’ll check in on ya when I can.”

Charlie yelped when she felt his hand slide down her back to grab her ass. “Butcher!”

He pulled back with that cocky grin of his. “Sorry, Love.”

“You’re a dirty liar, Butch,” she rolled her eyes. “Be safe out there?”

“You, too,” he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “See you ‘round, Kid.”

His hazel eyes lingered on her, a storm of emotions swirling, emotions she would not allow herself to read. He blinked, eyes clearing before he turned to jog down the porch steps. 

The bulldog at her feet whined sadly as they watched Billy climb into his car and drive off in the torrential rain.

Rain that matched whatever she’d glimpsed in his eyes.

“He’ll be back, Terror,” Charlie promised as she leaned down to scratch the dog’s head. She firmly locked down the worry eating at her to keep from unsettling Terror even more. “I don’t know when, but we both know he always keeps his promises.”

Six months later…

It took far too long for Charlie to realize she was staring at her ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut for the thousandth time since she’d crawled into bed hours ago… Ten? Eleven? What time is it now?

Her eyes blinked open and she found herself staring at her alarm clock.

Two-thirty-eight.

Lightning flashed beyond the windows, illuminating the room. Thunder immediately followed, the loud clap rattling the window panes. Terror huffed out a low whine from his bed in the corner.

“I’m sorry,” she tossed the covers off of her when she realized her own worries were rolling off of her in waves and the dog was feeling it tenfold. “We could camp out on the couch, or go down to the basement…”

The basement held little appeal despite the renovations she’d made throughout the past few months. Something had spurred her into converting it into an apartment, complete with two small bedrooms, a small bathroom with a small shower stall, a den/dinette (it was far cheaper to get a mini fridge, a microwave, toaster and coffee pot than it would have been to have an electrician come in to wire up an outlet for an electric range). 

Not really an apartment, more of a safe house of sorts. A hideout should Billy need one. And, despite all the arguments in the past where he swore he would never do anything to jeopardize her safety and her telling him he never would, she promised him he would always have a safe place to stay.

She’d followed through on that promise and even decorated it to poke fun at his eclectic taste in shirts.

A funky silicone lamp shaped like a pineapple. Palm tree string lights. A neon flamingo light. Tacky tropical print valances over the blinds at the windows. 

She could picture Billy’s scowl, could hear him telling her he hated her, but she knew it would all be for show. She could read him like an open book if she allowed herself to.  
But she had promised him years ago she never would. He hated supes, hated anyone enhanced, yet he had befriended her. A telepath. An empath. A telekinetic. 

She could read minds and emotions. She could influence emotions and distort thoughts. She could move things without physically touching them. Dangerous abilities, Billy had told her when she had denied her powers were anything but. Princess, you could mind fuck anyone if you wanted. Make ‘em think they’re goin’ mad. Drive ‘em to the looney bin and discredit them to their family, friends, associates. You’re more dangerous than Homelander.

All the more reason to kill her, yet he had befriended her instead. Taken her under his wing and taught her how to protect herself, how to handle a gun. He trusted her to take care of his dog.

And he had unknowingly made her fall for him and broke her heart.

Terror let out a grumble of discontent from his bed. Charlie sighed as she pushed to her feet. “I’m sorry, buddy, I’m just… worried about your daddy.”

That was putting it mildly.

After the news bulletin had interrupted an old rerun of NCIS (her and Terror’s favorite episode, “Dog Tags”) she had been scared to death for Billy, M.M. and Frenchie. Scared to death for the other guy, Hugh? He was new.

She was terrified either Vought or the CIA were behind this.

“Come on, Terror, maybe some ice cream will help calm my thoughts,” she shrugged.

It was a bullshit excuse and she knew it, but ice cream sounded really, really good right now. Vanilla, drowned in chocolate syrup, caramel syrup, and topped with chopped pecans, crumbled oreos and white chocolate chips.

Charlie grabbed the blue and white plaid button down Billy had forgotten (one of many shirts, he tended to disappear on her) and slipped it on over her tank top and booty shorts. She picked up her phone and turned on the flashlight app. With the world crashing down around her she did not want to risk turning on any lights at… 2:52 in the morning. Mrs. Kravitz next door and the Ropers across the street would be calling on her later if she did.

For a sleepy little neighborhood, she had some very nosy neighbors.

Halfway down the stairs a wave of vertigo hit her. She grabbed onto the banister to steady herself. The last thing she needed was to fall down the damn stairs and break her neck.

Wave after wave of clashing emotions bombarded her.

Fear.  
Anger.  
Frustration.  
Worry.  
Murderous rage.

Thoughts, loud and screaming. Various threats and what if she says no? Why did I trust this bastard? What did I allow myself to get into? I’ll never see my kid again...  
Some French curses, some Japanese.

Terror nearly bowled her over when he raced down the stairs barking. Thanks to the grip she had on the railing Charlie only slipped with her ankle smacking hard against the edge of the step. She welcomed the pain radiating up her leg, it helped block the maelstrom of thoughts and emotions hitting her.

“Terror!” She hissed out and eased some weight onto her foot to hobble the rest of the way down the stairs. “Terror!”

The bulldog was a wriggling mess galloping across the floor to the front door. There was no stopping him, he knew who was on the other side of the barrier.

She stopped to grab the handgun she’d stashed in the side table next to the stairs as she turned off her flashlight and set her phone down. She grit her teeth as she began to hobble as quietly as she could to the door.

“That dog doesn’t sound very friendly,” she barely heard the muffled voice over the pounding rain outside.

She flicked off the Ruger’s safety and quietly chambered a round. Her jaw began to ache from the tight clench, her ankle was on fire with every step she took. 

“Relax, Hughie, Terror won’t hurtcha.”

Billy.

Terror exploded into happy barks, his stocky body wriggling even more. 

Relief flooded through her, weakening her knees. She barely made it to the door and stole a peek out of one of the narrow windows flanking the entrance. All she could see from the shadows cast by the rain-obscured streetlights were silhouettes on her porch.

Knuckles wrapped on the window on the other side of the door.

“Relax, Kid, she knows we’re here. Let us in, Princess!”

Charlie fumbled with the lock, the deadbolt and the chain bolt before she managed to throw the door open and unlock the screen door.

“Get inside before Terror wakes up the neighborhood,” she grabbed the dog’s collar and muscled him back when he lunged for Billy Butcher. “I don’t need Gladys and the Ropers getting nosy again!”

“Go in,” Butcher’s gruff voice was low as he ushered his four companions inside. Once he himself was in and the door shut and locked behind him he grinned in the darkness.  
“Daddy’s home.”

Charlie’s brain short-circuited.

That half-growled, cocky tone.

That smug grin barely visible in the darkness.

Heat. Need. Desire. Burning lust. 

Amusement. Discomfort. Embarrassment. Oh dear god, no. 

She quickly threw up a mental block and thanked whatever being there was for the darkness to hide the hot blush she could feel splotching up her chest, neck and cheeks. She closed her eyes and drew in a slow, deep breath.

A callused hand curled around hers, sliding away with the Ruger. “You don’t need this now, Love,” Billy’s voice broke into her whirlwind thoughts. He carefully removed the magazine and ejected the round she’d chambered. “We’ve been burned.”

“I saw the news,” she opened her eyes. “What happened?”

“Vought,” he growled. “We need a place to crash for a bit.”

She nodded. “Come with me.”

Charlie led the way to the kitchen. “I fixed up the basement into a fully-furnished living space, complete with a bathroom,” she opened the door and flipped on the light switch at the top of the stairs. “No kitchen, but there’s a mini fridge, microwave, coffee pot, toaster, and a table and chairs.”

She gripped the two-by-two railing and hobbled down the steps. “I worked on this after you asked me to take care of Terror.”

“You readin’ my mind, Princess?”

“No, I’m offering an explanation,” she shot him a pained glare over her shoulder. “You know I would never read your mind without your express permission.”

“Wait, what?”

Charlie stopped halfway down the stairs and carefully turned around, easing her weight off her bad ankle. “I’m enhanced,” she leaned to peer around Billy’s broad chest at the youngest male in the group. “I’m telepathic, empathic and telekinetic. I can read your mind and plant thoughts and images in your head, feel and influence your emotions, and send a rock flying at you from a hundred yards away without even touching it.” She held up her hand when Hughie opened his mouth to protest. “I will not read a person without their permission unless their thoughts are screaming and they are emoting uncontrollably. When you arrived on my doorstep your thoughts were loud and clear.”

“You hate supes yet you brought us here?” Hughie turned a glare at Butcher.

“I’m not a supe,” Charlie struggled to control her temper as she turned to continue downstairs. “I’m not registered, and as far as I know, as far as I hope, Vought knows nothing about my existence. I intend to keep it that way.” She reached the bottom of the stairs and hobbled around to the storage closet beneath the steps.

“You’re limping, Princess.”

“Slipped on the stairs,” she shrugged before stepping into the closet. “These’ll need to be shaken out,” she grabbed four storage bags packed with bedding. “One bedroom has a bunk bed, the other bedroom has a full-sized bed. The couch is a pull out. There are towels and toiletries in the bathroom… and the only thing in the mini fridge is bottled water.”

Billy took the bedding from her and handed them off to MM. “All right, lads, ya heard her. We’re safe here. Until her neighbors recognize us.”

“As nosy as Gladys and Helen are,” Charlie grimaced as she shut the closet door. “Since Billy failed to properly introduce us, I’m Charlotte Munder. Better known as Charlie. The bulldog is Terror.”

“The lad is Hughie and the female is Kimiko,” Billy finished the introductions.

“I’ll leave you guys to it, you can fight over who sleeps where,” she managed a weary smile. “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”

Try being the figurative word.

Especially after her body’s lust-filled reaction to two simple words meant for the dog.

With a quiet good night she started for the stairs.

Billy’s footsteps and Terror’s unmistakable lumber followed her.

“I’ve got a spot set up in the garage for Terror when it’s raining, he probably needs to go out,” she turned to face him once they reached the kitchen.

“You had quite the reaction earlier, Princess,” Billy stalked forward, crowding her against the small island in the middle of the room. 

“What reaction?” She played dumb, unwilling to admit that she might possible, suddenly, have a daddy kink.

“Daddy’s home,” he repeated that little phrase. 

She merely arched an eyebrow as she tamped down the surge of lust flooding through her core.

“You’re controlling it now. Earlier you couldn’t,” he braced his hands on the island, caging her in. “We all felt your reaction, Princess. We all felt how wet ‘daddy’s home’ made you.”

Her eyes slid shut. “Dammit, Billy…” she moaned softly. “Yes, okay, it turned me on, dammit! Even though you were talking to Terror!”

“Wasn’t talking to him,” his nose brushed hers before his mouth stopped any argument she had. 

Primal lust flooded her senses. Alpha. Demanding. Dominating. She wilted under the intensity of the physical emotions Billy allowed her to feel. She reached up to curl her fingers into the collar of his coat, pulling him closer. His beard scratched her chin and cheek as he dragged his lips from hers to trail hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw to that sweet spot just below her left ear.

Billy pushed the shirt from her shoulders, dragging the thin straps of her tank top. “Where ya want me, Princess?” His growl vibrated through her flesh at her pulse point. “Here?”

The mere thought of Billy taking her on the kitchen island sent another wave of white hot lust through her. She whined at the images popping into her head. Billy with his pants undone, her panties torn, him fucking into her hard.

His knowing chuckle snapped her back to reality.

“Careful, Princess,” he warned. “You’re losing control there.” He worked his way down her neck to the curve of her shoulder. “If I can see what you’re thinking, they can, too.”

“You bastard,” she moaned when his teeth raked over her collarbone. “Bed. Now.”

“As you wish,” he had her over his shoulder before she realized he was pulling away.

He clamped his large hand firmly over her ass as he rushed up the stairs. 

Billy had barely set Charlie on her feet when she started pawing at his coat. “Easy, Love,” he shrugged out of the battered garment and tossed it aside. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” He caught her hands when she grasped the placket of his shirt. “Don’t. This one’s my favorite.”

“You say that about all your shirts.”

He lowered his head to look her in the eye. “This is the shirt I stole from you, Princess.”

The black cats with lollipop pink hibiscus flowers. The very shirt she’d worn over a laced up minidress the night they had met.

She hadn’t seen it in six months.

Charlie tightened her grip on the shirt as she raised up on her toes. “I want it back.”

“Not a chance,” he growled back before smashing his mouth over hers.

Her fingers trembled as she worked the buttons free and pushed the shirt from Billy’s strong shoulders. He dropped his hands from the shirt she wore and shrugged out of the garment. He groaned when she reached for his pants. “In that much of a hurry, Love?”

She lifted her eyes to his and deliberately loosened the tight grip she had on her body’s physical reaction to him.

She shrugged out of the plaid shirt as she projected the deep and throbbing ache between her thighs, how uncomfortably and embarrassingly wet she’d become just from hearing him utter “Daddy’s home.”

Billy’s hands trembled slightly as he tugged her tanktop up when she showed him the heavy, tingling feeling in her breasts, how she needed to feel his beard, his tongue, his teeth marking them up.

A very NSFW montage of every fantasy she had entertained throughout the past six months and the frustration of vibrators failing to give her the euphoric orgasms only Billy Butcher could give her. 

“Yes, Daddy,” she bit her bottom lip as she responded to his question. 

The grip he had on her panties tightened before he ripped the material. “I’ll buy you more,” he growled as he pinned her to the bed beneath him, her wrists shackled in his left hand. “Don’t you move.”

Charlie whimpered at the loss of his body heat when he pushed away from the bed, even though she knew he was only going to finish undressing. Her eyes followed his every move as he unzipped his pants and toed off his boots. She could feel her control hanging by a thread and knew the instant he touched her that thread would snap and the entire neighborhood would wake up suddenly horny.

Billy braced one knee on the bed, slowly raking his eyes over her. “Where do you want me to start, Princess?”

Fuck.

That god damned smug bastard.

He had every intention of teasing her, of edging her, of making her beg.

“That’s not gonna work,” she warned him. “You know I can’t control it when you’re teasing me.”

“That’s the point, Love,” he winked as he braced his hands on either side of her and slotted himself between her thighs. “You lose control and the sex is mind-blowing.”

He did not give her a chance to retort before dipping his head down and gently biting the peak of her left breast. 

Charlie cried out as her control snapped. She tunneled her fingers into Billy’s thick, still-damp-from-the-rain hair to guide his mouth back to hers. “God, Billy… I need you…” She panted when he dragged wet kisses down her chin to her neck. “Don’t… fuck!” 

He grinned against her breast bone when he slipped a finger into her tight, wet heat. “So wet, Princess… You have a daddy kink?”

“N-no…” she rolled her hips into his hand, seeking out the friction she knew she would find in his palm. 

“I think you do,” he slipped another finger inside her. “You want Daddy to take care of you, dontcha?” He grinned against her breast when she clamped down on his fingers. “So tight, Princess…”

Charlie couldn’t stop the low moan when Billy curled his fingers. Or the overwhelming surge of burning need to have him flip her over and just pound into her from behind. “Billy!”

“Come for me, Princess, and Daddy’ll give ya what ya want,” he promised before rubbing his bearded chin over her right nipple.

Fuck.

That did it.

She bucked her hips into his hand, riding out a very powerful orgasm on his clever fingers as he teased her through it. 

She barely had time to catch her breath before he flipped her over and pulled her hips up. He palmed the nape of her neck to push her shoulders down and nudged her knees apart with his. 

“Beautiful li’l sight there, Princess,” he caressed his hands down her bare back to her ass, massaging the rounded cheeks before popping one lightly. “So lovely.” 

She stifled a moan into her pillow when she felt the head of his cock brushing at her slick and swollen folds. “Please… Billy…” She tried to rock back onto him but his hands gripped her hips tight to hold her still.

“Princess, tryin’ ta take my time so I don’t blow too soon,” he slowly, so slowly, pushed into her. “Fuck, you’re so tight, Love…”

Charlie curled her fingers into the blanket as he stretched her around his thick cock. He was too much, especially now that she could not control herself. 

He chuckled. “Is that what ya think of me cock, Princess?”

“Uh-huh,” she nodded, rolling her hips against him. That earned her another soft pop on the right butt cheek. She cried out his name as another strong surge of lust pulsed through her.

“What did I tell ya about takin’ my time?” He soothed one hand over her bottom before he slowly pulled back and began to thrust at a steady pace. 

Charlie stifled another low, guttural moan into her pillow when he started stroking his hands over her back and hips. Those callused hands felt so good. She loved how the rough skin of his palms felt on her flesh. The way he petted her, worshipped her…

His hips snapped harder as those large hands dragged up her sides to cup her breasts. He pulled her up until her back was flush with his chest. “Not gonna last much longer, Love,” he panted out a warning. “You thinkin’ like that.” He dragged the callused pads of his fingertips over her nipples, earning another cry from her. 

Charlie arched her back, grinding her ass into his pelvis as she raised her arms up to tunnel her fingers into his thick hair. “I… god… Not gonna last… either…” she whined. “Fuck, Billy, please!”

Butcher pressed a biting kiss to the crook of her neck, sliding one hand down her belly. “I gotcha, Princess,” he growled into her skin. 

He barely touched her clit before she shattered around him. The hand he had on her breast clamped over her mouth when she cried out, his own shout muffled into her shoulder when his hips lost rhythm and he spilled into her.

They collapsed onto the bed. Billy groaned as he rolled onto his back. “C’mere, Princess.”

Charlie weakly rolled over to lay her head on his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut when Butcher wrapped his arm around her. 

His lips and beard brushed her forehead. “Sweet dreams, Love,” he murmured, pulling the covers over their sweat-slicked bodies. “We’ll deal with the fallout from the boys in the morning.”


End file.
